Full Moon
by Phantom Hawthorne
Summary: A small AU. Erik never loved Christine, but she loved him. No one loved Raoul, but he loved Christine. After Erik flees the Operahouse, Christine goes looking for him, uncovering secrets and lies along the way. Rated for later chapters, E/C later...
1. I: Prologue

Oh Erik, my one true love with whom I had spent years pining after. Although he was thirty-four years my elder, I was in love with the one who stole my heart as he taught me the music.

But then out of the fiery flames of hell burned a love unwanted, Raoul, to whom I severely disliked. He loved me and was powerful enough to marry me. I had no choice in the matter.

I was seven when I met the Phantom, brought to the Opera house by Madame Giry, who took me there after my beloved father perished. I was Christine Daae, one who cried for my late father and was helped by one Angel of Music that bestowed upon me a voice. Why he chose me, I shall never know. Was it love? No. Was it regret? No. Was he a friend of my late father? No. Nor was it guilt, or revenge. It was merely out of the goodness of his heart. He was forty-two years old at the time, but still I fell in love with him. It was less back then, more of puppy love, as I was less than a decade old.

I lived in my quarters, listening to him, never knowing where the sounds came from. I grew older, began growing in more places than up. He said I was becoming a woman, and I didn't know if that meant he liked me or not. I was sad until he taught me new songs.

And then, I was sixteen. I had been in love with Erik, and I had finally seen his face. The problem was...I couldn't go back. I just couldn't. I was infatuated with him. His daring. His achievement, how he never gave up. The persistence. My voice was a frog when I started out and less than ten years later I am in an opera.

I stared at a mirror when I first saw him.

"_Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!"_

He sang the verse and I fell in love.

I thought he had loved me all along, but I was incorrect. My face showed lust, but his decieved me. He looked upon me as my eyes ravaged his face. He saw that I wanted him, and he lsughed inside. This man was older. He had no use for me. And so he tricked me into a love match.

There was a time when I fell out of love with him. When I was brought down to the catacombs the second time. Towards the end, I did mean the kiss I produced, but he didn't get it. He was still not in love. He saw my match with Raoul, tha damn rich, arrogant man. I did not like Raoul. I never liked him. And yet...

In the catacombs. This is where my--_our_--story begins.


	2. II: The Secret Storeroom

_**Wow! 51 hits! I'm completely impressed. And happy. Thanks to you 51 hitters. Thanks to GitaMerah, MoonlightWonderer, PhanPhicPhantastic, and Twinkle22 for your support in the "Alert" category. And special thanks to you, GitaMerah, for leaving a reply.**_

_**Here you go, chapter two.**_

* * *

I was in the catacombs late one Sunday night. Erik had released me with Raoul three days earlier. I wanted a mask, but Meg had taken his last one for god knew what. I didn't like her as much as I had. 

I looked through satchels and parcels for something that resembled a memento. I found nothing except an old pâpiér maché monkey, which I cast aside. It was dusty and played a haunting tune which seemed vaguely familiar.

What was there to take? His clothes seemed right until I realized that they were too large for me to take. I was running to—hopefully—America. He had always wanted to go there; he had told me when I was thirteen. I looked at his wall, with its maps of Paris. My hands trembled and I fell to the floor, weeping. My knees hit something that reverberated throughout the cavern. It was a clunking sound that I heard over and over.

_CLUNK, clunk, clunk. _I shut my eyes.

The opera house was no more than a pile of ash, I realized, but this was here, these caverns and hallways. They were all that was left, and since Mssrs. Andre and Firmin had fled quickly to Australia to consult with the previous owner, I was the one who owned these. No one would want the ashy remains of the Opera Populair. Why would they want dank, swampy rooms underground?

I listened to the clunking, thinking that everything here was mine, so I could investigate. I pulled back the carpet and saw a trapdoor.

How cliché. I looked into its depths. At least there was a ladder.

My skirt was wide, so I cut a rope down from the many in the ceiling and bound it loosely around my hem so as not to rip it. It worked; as I climbed down the narrow opening, I was immune to protruding nails. When I reached the ground again, some three hundred feet deeper, I was amazed as I dropped my rope. It was cold down here.

My eyes adjusted while I rubbed my arms. It wasn't damp, as it was above, but it had a lingering smell of wet rags. I found the source of the smell: a pile of dirty clothes, all of them soaking up a leak in the ceiling that was dripping slowly. The only moisture in the room.

Rooms. There was a door to the left, which was gilded with gold paint and had a crystal knob. I was eager to find out where it went to, but found that it was locked from the inside.

Sighing, I looked around. Suddenly, I noticed something. Something red.

It was a cloth. On it was sewn "To Erik, my beloved. Do not lose who you are, do not forget what you can become." It was signed, "G". It had caught my eye because underneath it was a package, unopened. I didn't dare open it, but instead grabbed it and slipped it beneath my dress. My satchel lay in the boat, where I would take the package.

I looked around once more. Trunks upon trunks upon trunks. There were hundreds of things in some corners. Mirrors, birdcages, blankets, hundreds of roses and rose seeds, knives, a tea kettle, a box labeled "Thread" and one labeled "Wax". I looked at everything, taking in a lot of things. They weren't junk, either, they were kept in great shape, only a little dusty. I only kept the package and cloth, however.

Going up the ladder, my skirt roped again, I thought about what I had seen. This hidden room was large, about half the size of the cavern where he usually slept. I would probably spend the night here and make way with food he had in a white wooden box he had behind a painting.

I slid into his silk sheets and heavy, jeweled comforter. I found a great machine he used, one that I would pull a lever and gears would make drops of water fall in exactly the right places to extinguish every candle except for one right next to his bed.

I looked at the candle and imagined it's flickering as Erik. I laughed to myself as I imagined me leaning in and burning my lips. I looked up at it with brown eyes, swelling with tears.

"Goodnight, Erik." I whispered.

It's only answer was to flicker once more and go out, leaving me in darkness alone with my tears and miles upon miles of heartache.


	3. III: Hawk

A/N I love you all. No sooner had I posted the chapter that said "Sorry" than I got 10 e-mails from FF. Reviews, Alerts, even Favorite Authors! You are all cement that support the bricks of my literature life! –PH

I had never been a fan of dirt, but then when I was brought the catacombs that first time, I was immune to it. It was a different effect, and it resulted in me not minding little children running past me. Upon closer look, they were all boys.

I hated the male-dominated society. Women needed rights. I adjusted my dress in a doorway as I pondered this.

Where to go?

I had gotten rid of my corset. I may need to walk the entire way, why constrict my breathing? I had instead wrapped a fat length of silk around my chest so as not to flop like a rabbit's ear. I was walking past and alley in a simple day dress when I heard someone.

"Heh."

It was a laugh. But it was pleasure, which meant a disgusting, grubby man was lying, probably drunk, on the ground, enjoying me walk past his "home". I had always hated that. Whenever I walked past with Raoul when that happened, he would sigh and whisper in my ear "You are much too beautiful for a mere ragamuffin. That's why I have you." Stunning, he was, bragging as well as sending me a compliment.

I was alone now. Raoul had left for his manor, making wedding plans. He didn't know I was gone. I was free. I could be raped and he probably wouldn't know. And if he did, he would get all snooty and extravagant and pay to have the man found, arrested, and hanged. I wouldn't stand for it.

I walked into the alley and decided at once to drop my impressive manner. Instead of calling lightly for the man who had laughed before me, I cleared my throat. Not good enough. I called "Who's there?"

Even I heard the French in my voice, the aristocracy. "Who eez the-arre?" letting the "r" roll away from my tongue and barely be heard.

Another sound came.

"Heh."

I sniffed the air. Waste! And also—ugh—rotten food. Do these people know what "sanitize" means? How could they eat rotten cabbage and undercooked meat?

As if in answer to my question, I heard "A bite o' a rotten apple is best than a bite o' air."

I knew that voice! I could swear it! In an undertone, I called, "Hawk?"

An answer, "Aye, some never lose their worth o' water till the well runs dry."

I laughed. Hawk! My friend who was banished from the opera house because he broke a leg! My darling friend who spoke only in sayings and proverbs. He was funny and optimistic, and apparently poor.

He stood. I gasped. His leg, the one that was broken, was missing.

"Hawk?" I croaked out. I pointed to the stub.

He grimaced. "Time takes its toll on some."

I nodded, knowing what he meant. I had learned to speak his language. I would have to ask easier questions.

No one knew why this brown-haired man chose to speak like this. I believe it was trauma, but what type of trauma drove someone to speak in sayings? Magic was impossible, of course.

To think, he was going to rape me. Or rather, that was what I thought. I looked at him.

"You look different but...the same."

It wasn't a question, but still he answered. "People change, yet eyes never do."

It was true. His light skin was matted with dirt. His hair was covered in Lord knew what all. But his icy gray eyes were still digging into mine, whispering secrets I did not need to know.

I looked away from him. Hawk was someone who you couldn't look in the eye for long. My brown eyes were looking at my feet. Those feet were about to walk miles upon miles, and they would be lonely. I could use someone else.

"Hawk?" I asked, "Would you like to come with me?"

He looked up. "It is not about the wanting, but the destination."

Where did he find these? "I am going—" it was then that I realized I had no idea where I was going. "To find...ah..."

He smiled. "Sometimes the best things are concealed in surprise and secret."

He was right. I didn't have to care where I was going.

"I'm looking for Erik."

His eyes asked me what his mouth did not.

"Erik...the Phantom. The Phantom of the Opera."

His mouth dropped open, and nothing came out. Not proverb, not saying, not even sentence thought by him. Nothing came forward except silence. But it was a different silence. I waited for an answer.

And it came.

"It is better to walk with a companion and have a dangerous life than to walk solo with no mission."

I laughed and threw my arms around him, clearing a space on his cheek by kissing him. A friend kiss, though. He understood.


	4. IV: The Beginning of the Journey

WOW time does fly when you procrastinate! Here we go, people, it's a wee bit short, but I PROMISE THAT EVEN IF I SHALL BE BURNED AND ROASTED I WILL POST A CHAPTER ON MONDAY (we're most likely getting a snow day :3)

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Hawk proved to be, although a burden, certainly not a nuisance. He slowed me down, of course, but he only fell over twice, but after I fashioned a makeshift crutch out of an elder branch, he was fine.

We found no obstacles, but eventually found ourselves deep in the woods. We had somehow started a game and lost track of time, place, and, unfortunately, our hunger.

I made a move in the game, which was more of a time-passer. I would say something, and he would say a proverb that matched it. "You should have some of the bread I'm about to eat." I said, my stomach growling at the sound of "eat".

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander."

I thought. I supposed it would work. "It's certainly getting darker than before..."

"Time flies when you're having fun."

I sighed. "I'm exhausted." I hadn't meant for it to be apart of the game, and I laughed when he said "Tireless effort is matched in the end."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "Words are said on the road, a certain part is consumed."

I took that to mean that he had heard it somewhere and it was all he had to offer.

I pulled out my satchel and took out a loaf of bread. I broke it in two and offered him a piece. He obliged and took a bite. I looked at him.

"Hawk, can you tell me, please, why you speak like that?"

He didn't answer, but ate his bread. He eventually looked up, frowning, as if he was remembering. He shook his head "no".

I squinted. "Does that mean no, you can't remember why?"

He nodded. I wondered why he just didn't say "yes".

We drank from a stream nearby, cupping our hands and slurping so as to keep out large clots of dirt. Nothing could be done about the germs and the rest of the dirt, but we didn't care. We were thirsty. We stretched out on some moss, my dainty, ladylike manner kicking in as I drew my knees up into my skirt. I closed my eyes, my arms as a pillow, wondering where we would go in the morning, wondering where we would sleep, and wondering what would happen when summer was over, and we had not found Erik before winter. Something was telling me I had to find him before winter, and it wasn't because it was going to snow. There was a nagging in the back of my brain, and I couldn't understand it.

I sighed, my eyes fluttering. I drifted into sleep, dreaming of that moment when Erik and I first saw each other face-to-face after my performance. That whirlwind moment when I fell in love with him.


	5. V: Surplus of Surprise

**A/N:** I beg your forgiveness. School is hell. But FINALLY! A day off! Oh Frabjous day, caloo callay! Here's one, it took me most of last night and the better part of 3:52-4:31 to write. The rest of that time was spent elsewher :3

* * *

We reached a town in less than a day.

It was a small town, but I immediately recognized it. It was waterfront; I had a prior memory to this. I then gasped.

"Raoul!" I heard myself whisper. Of course...this was one of the places I had spent with Raoul! Was it not I who had said "I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." to Meg? Oh, how I regretted it.

One thing I felt sorry for was my wardrobe. I had on a plain dress with no fantastic jewels or finery as I was used to. My hair was matted and my stomach growling, my lips scratched lightly and my shawl scratched heavily.

Hawk was worse. He grimaced as he hopped along, aided by his crutch and me. His clothes weren't ripped, but they used to be his opera house clothes, which were once clean and fine, and they used to be a light, creamy color. Now they were stained brown and frayed, but they were intact.

The people around us had nice enough clothes, although a few children were walking around in dirty skirts and ripped jackets. One little boy was even naked! But he soon backed into an alley, and I didn't see him. I saw a flash of a wormy rat's tail going into a doorway that was crawling with roaches. It revolted me, and I was a bit confused as to how they all lived in fine clothes but slept in hideous homes.

I looked into my satchel and found some coins, and then even better: a bar of soap. I didn't remember packing any soap, but perhaps I had just forgotten. I walked to the water and cleaned my face, Hawk waiting on a boardwalk. I came back up and looked as people sneered at our shabbiness.

"Hawk?" I whispered. He looked up. "Do you mind people laughing at us?"

"Beauty is only skin deep."

I pondered this and then asked him if he wanted anything to eat. He shook his head, and I cocked an eyebrow. We hadn't eaten anything since the night before.

"You're quite sure?"

He nodded. I sighed and asked if he wanted to stay here instead of coming with me to a small café or restaurant. He nodded and walked under the boardwalk, easing down onto his knees. Knee.

I walked away, and I looked again into my satchel. It was heavy, but I did find a white apron. I slid it on over my skirt and lifted my arms, twirling a bit to get the smell out. I ran my fingers through my hair lightly, trying to brush it down. I instead settled on tying a kerchief over my head, with help from a little cloth bundle of bread at the bottom of my satchel. I walked towards a nearby shop, which seemed empty.

As I walked near the door, it opened as someone else walked out.

"Fine! And I won't come back, neither, not hardly, not _ever_!"

A man—hardly a man, he seemed only seventeen or eighteen—was storming out of the shop, his brow furrowed, his teeth bared, and he threw a white apron, not unlike mine, onto the ground. He wasn't looking and stepped on my foot. I didn't want his anger to be put onto me, so I backed towards the door, my eyes wide.

He turned when he heard my footsteps. His face was still enraged. "Watch where you're going!" he screeched, and started down the steps. I reached behind me. If there was one thing I learned from the opera house, it was not to let anyone push you around. I threw what I settled my hands on: a yellow scrap of wood, rotted from the sign that read "The Carson". Obviously the shop was a bit old, to have a rotted sign, but what mattered was that he hesitated and turned when the wood hit him between the shoulder blades.

His face was calmer, and even a bit frightened. I looked at his muddy-brown eyes and was shocked to see that they were watering.

"What?" he asked. I gaped. "What?" he asked again, anger rising.

I seized my courage. "Someone living in a nice town like this should know how to talk to a lady!" Not the best of speeches, but who cares?

He blinked. Apparently my small outburst had taken effect, no matter the size.

But maybe not, as he groaned and stormed off. "I don't need this right now!"

I sighed and walked inside the store. The person behind the counter had a blank, disbelieving expression on his face. Even one of the four customers was looking at me, his mouth open. I shot him a look that plainly said to mind his own business.

I stepped up to the counter and got some food, a loaf of day-old bread that was on sale and two bottles of milk. I also looked at some cheese and even got a sample of it; I held off, however, because it was a bit too expensive.

I stepped out and waltzed towards the boardwalk. I hunched against some wind, although as it was spring, I didn't need to shiver. I looked up and saw a familiar face.

It was the boy who had left the shop. He had apparently been walking there and spotted me.

He rubbed his arm in an embarrassed manner. His cheeks turned red and I raised my eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Look," he said, his voice calmer than before, and more pleading, "I'm sorry about before. I was just—"

I interrupted him. "You had your chance, I gave it to you, and you rejected it." I walked around him and was startled at how easily that came.

The boardwalk clattered under my heel, and I sighed, thinking about everything. What a hectic week, how I had left the opera house, found Hawk, and now I had fought with this boy, hardly a boy, but he still acted like one.

And the surprises kept on coming. When I reached the dip in the boardwalk where the shady spot lay, Hawk wasn't there.


	6. VI: The Medicine

So soon after finding him, I had lost him. He was gone. Gone! And it was my fault. I left him. How could I think that I could leave a one-legged man in a place where people with no morals lived? It was stupid.

But maybe he didn't leave. He could be hiding. That's it!

I ran through the streets, calling his name. "Hawk? H-Hawk? HAWK!" No answer, from the alleys or anything. Had he been mugged of the little money he had, he would be lying bloody on the ground, perhaps unable to call out. But judging by the amount of time he had been left alone, I doubted he was beyond noise.

I thought to look elsewhere, but where would I look? I had no idea. I was alone—nothing would change that. I settled onto a doorstep and sobbed, until the owner of the house came out.

"What're you doing, there?"

I actually doubted it was the owner, unless ten-year-old girls can make fabulous amounts of money and buy houses, but she swept off the step, careful to sweep around me. I got up and quickly moved down. She smiled.

"Oh please, don't be leavin'. I'm only sweepin', an' it gets awful lonely here. No one to be talkin' to, y'know?"

I did know. And she looked at me with soulful eyes. I was too choked up to speak.

"Are you, mute, then? Go on, talk!" she smiled a toothy smile, and I grinned a faded grin.

"Oh, got the strep, then? 'Tis no worse than the cold, but still people've been hackin' and coughin' and comin' in. Is that why you're here, then? To get medicine? Go on inside, mam'll attend to you. Just don't be tellin' the police, or'n I'll have to leave as mam'll be arrested, o' course."

I shook my head, or, at least, I wanted to. But she opened the door and I was forced back, so strong was the warm air, scented with cinnamon. I smiled and walked in a bit.

"There'n we go, miss." She had a strong English accent, I realized. My own was thick with aristocracy, but no one looked funny at French in Paris, of course.

She walked into a room and then out again. "Mam's a bit tired, I'll ten to ya. You just got th' strep? A nice, hot cuppa tea'll do the trick, mark m'words, ma'am."

She mixed a few things together, and then poured a little powder from a bottle into the cup she had fixing.

"Had a few people in here before, we did, miss." She said, and then began to sing. Her voice was surprisingly sweet and carrying. She could have been a fantastic chorus girl at the opera house, if she wasn't so young.

_The gain of a lifetime_

_Is pain in a lifetime_

_You can't trust the truth_

_Coming from the soothsayer..._

I liked the tune. I really did. But the words were familiar, very familiar. I couldn't quite place it.

I sipped my tea, unbeknownst to the bitter taste until she brought it to my thoughts. "It's a little different than most." She said, talking about the tea. I drank it through.

She grinned. My eyes felt heavy. It was late, after all.

"So, yes. We've had quite a few in today. Many, in fact. We had a weird one, we did. He was strange, couldn't understand a word he said, I couldn't."

I noticed vaguely that, although her accent was still there (although faintly), she had lost whatever it was that made her words so different. Her grammar remained. She kept talking about the customers.

"We found him, actually, I found him down by the sea. Funny, it was. He didn't say much. Had to drag him up here, I did, as one of his legs was gone. And another one, well, he put up a struggle, but I recognize people with the sickness, I do."

I felt myself going deeper and deeper, and finally blacked out right after I saw her malicious smile spread across her pale face, and the cup of tea spilled into my lap. I couldn't feel it, though, so I guess it didn't matter.

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**A/N **END OF THE BOOK! Just kidding. Guess we found Hawk, then? Here's your present: ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER! YAAY! Merry Christmas! 


	7. VII: A Way Out?

**A/N** SO sorry! Procrastination got the better of me. That and Drama club. I'll tell you now that I'll write less often, due to incessant Drama Club meetings and me being allowed on only an hour a day on weekdays, but when I do post, the chapters will be at least 1500-2000 words long, I promise! Probably once a week or so. This one isn't too long, of course, since I only have 3 hours. Sorry!

* * *

I awoke, of course. Otherwise there would be no point in writing. But, unfortunately, I wasn't in the best place.

I wasn't chained up or in a cage, but I was somewhere underground, that I could tell. I saw a crumpled shape before me, a few yards away. I looked up and saw that the shape was a person, and that they only had one leg.

"_Hawk!_" I screeched, rushing forward. I kneeled before him, and he lay still. I took a breath in. "No...no..."

I felt my eyes well up in fear and heard someone say, "He won't wake." I looked up. A face came out of the shadows. I didn't recognize it, as the person had their face shadowed, and also had a black strip tied across their eyes, with holes in it for his iris to glare through. His brown eyes willed against mine. I looked into them. "What do you mean?" my voice was hoarse.

"I mean, whatever Cressida gave him to drink, it poisoned him. Something to do with his age. I've taken it before, too, not too long ago." His voice was strong but sounded as if it had spoken too much lately. Spoken or shouted.

"Cressida?"

"The young girl up there, who sang the tune, was giving us what she called broth. It's true the town has come down with this illness. Well, that isn't a cure she gave us." His grammar was nice, unlike the girl up there, Cressida.

I looked again at Hawk. "So is he—is he—?"

The man frowned and stepped back a bit. "I'm afraid so. But that's the least of our worries. We have to get out of here before the poison kills you, too."

* * *

I was in a corner, scaling the wall with my hands for the hundredth time. "If there's a way in, there's a way out." I muttered again and again. The man was on the other side, quietly prodding the wall with his long, thin fingers.

"Anything?" I called out, and he shushed me.

"We don't want them to know we're awake." He whispered to me. He walked over, taking my hands in his. His hands were cold and bony, my soft skin breaking into goose pimples because of him. "Your hands are city hands. You'll have to work a bit harder, or else we'll never make it out."

And we heard it.

_Creeeak_.

I looked up, and he did, too. His fingers let go of mine and he slunk back into the shadows. I followed him, my soft shoes padding silently.

I listened for more sounds, but only heard a clatter, as if someone was putting down a dish of some sort. And then another sense kicked in. I smelled roast pork. Oh, roast pork! My mind strayed back to Hawk, lying still in the corner. He wasn't dead; I told myself for the thousandth time, he isn't dead.

But I had to face it. He was dead. The man had told me.

The man. Where was the man? I felt around silently and bumped into the wall. It wouldn't have mattered, but then a candle fell from the wall onto the ground. It rolled to the corner, where it went to the feet of someone. Small feet. Cressida's feet!

I held my breath as she walked into the shadows. The shadows were my cover. Now I had to leave them. I took a leap towards the light, but was caught around the middle by strong hands. He wrapped a tender arm around my waist and slid his hand over my mouth to silence me if I startled the silence. We stayed still until we heard Cressida leaving, and he watched her leave. The man loosened and, I was surprised to find myself feel saddened, he took his hand away from my waist. We followed Cressida's footsteps, and then they disappeared.

I looked around. "Where'd she go?" I whispered. He only pointed up.

I looked at the wall. It was blank. And then I saw it. The smooth wall was made of a type of large stone, but there was a line of thick, heavy stones. And at the bottom, and at the top, there were handles. He placed his hand on the bottom handle and pulled.

The line started coming out, and it turned out to be a set of stairs. He softly padded up it and looked down. He came back down, grinning. "It's a pit, a tunnel! A slide! An easy way out! Come on, Christine, let's go!"

Without asking me, he grasped my hand and ran up the stairs with me, and we climbed in. A long, dark slide. It went curving and mostly down. Everything went more underground. I was afraid to stop bracing my feet from the walls, but the man pushed me down. Questions spun around my head, but as he held onto my reassuringly, I forgot to ask. Forgot to ask why we just left Hawk's body behind. Forgot to ask why we were spinning down an endless tunnel when we didn't know why getting out of a terrible situation was so easy. Forgot to ask where it led. Forgot to ask how he knew my name.

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**A/N **Not my best chapter, but still. Enjoy. Expect more. Lots more. 


	8. VIII: A Fowl Alias

**A/N Has anyone ever noticed how on the cover of the DVD, the 2004 PTO has his mask on the left, when in the movie it's on the right? -.o

* * *

**

I blinked in the sudden sunlight. We were still in the tunnel, but it had leveled out, and there was a plank missing from the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through it and the man and I were sitting together as we slowed down. There was a door up ahead, but we decided to go through the planks as they obviously led outside.

The sunlight splashed onto a side of his face, and through the cloth mask tied around his eyes, I saw the left side of his face as it tilted upward.

His eyes turned towards me and his face backed into the shadows again. I stepped forward and pushed up. We had obviously escaped Cressida and her poison. I thought back to Hawk and swallowed. He wasn't a problem anymore. I knew he was gone, but still, I had more to worry about. I threw a rotten board aside.

"Would you like a leg up?" I heard, and turned to see the man's smile splashed in light. He cupped his hands and helped me up. I grabbed his arms and pulled him. I fell back into the grass and then quickly shot up to see his whole face. Too late; he had turned around to survey where we had ended up.

"There's The Carson..." he said to himself, and I noticed the restaurant where I had run into that brown-haired boy right before finding out that Hawk was missing. Why did it keep coming back to Hawk?

I walked up towards the man and he stepped towards the street. I was surprised when I put my hands on my hips, when I found my satchel slung around them. I moved it to my shoulder and raced after him.

We slipped into an alley. A dark one. Damn! Would I never see his face?

Maybe it was who I thought it was...no. It couldn't be. That would be too ironic, to travel this far and lose so much.

But maybe...

"Erik?" I asked out loud.

He stiffened. "What did you say?"

"I-I, uh, well..." I didn't want to admit what I had said. And then I remembered some food I had packed. "I said carrot. Want a carrot?" I held one out, smiling hopefully, scared. He turned. Only the left side of his face. Damnation! He smiled, though. Such a pleasant smile.

"Yes, thanks. I'm famished." He broke it in half and handed me the larger half. I gratefully took a bite, and then held out the bottle of milk from my bag. He took a small sip, enough to quench the thirst, and handed it back. I took a sip, too, although a bit larger. I stored it away and smacked my lips. "Now what?"

He shrugged and turned back around.

"I have a question for you." He finally said. I looked up. "Hmm?"

He started rubbing his right eye, and his hand covered that side of his face. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be marrying Raoul at the opera house?"

I grimaced. "Well, I was looking for yo—ah—Erik, the Phantom of the Opera." I looked at him. "Though, you seem to know a lot about me. What with knowing my name, how I lived in the opera house...who are you?"

He smiled. "That's not going to be answered. Who are you?"

But the question wasn't directed to me. I looked up in confusion as someone approached us.

"There you are! You've been on my conscience all day; I've been looking for you!"

It was the brown-haired boy out of The Carson. I looked at him, unblinking. "Do you want something?" I asked him coldly.

He bit his lip. "I'm really sorry about that earlier." He was disregarding who I thought was Erik, who looked at the brown-haired boy in disgust.

"Excuse me." Said the man, "you're in our conversation." He pulled his hand away from his eye and it pulled the mask down a bit, and the right side of his face was covered with black cloth. If it had been Erik, what would be the infected area would be unrecognizable. I turned to the boy.

"I'm James, by the way." he said, ignoring the man. James took a step closer. "You have striking eyes." He whispered. I was unfazed. "I wonder, do you want something?" I asked flatly.

James nodded and bent his head. He leaned forward, his eyes closed. I stepped back, my eyes wide. He crashed to the floor.

"Ow..." James moaned lightly. His head was covered in mud. The man muffled his laughter in his hand, his eyes watering.

I smiled. "Well, you certainly got what I wanted you to have." I turned and beckoned behind me for the man to follow. He happily came up beside me and burst out laughing. "Brilliant! I haven't seen you act like that in—" he stopped abruptly and closed his mouth. I looked at him from the side. "I don't know about you," I said, "But I'm about ready to leave this damn town." He nodded.

We walked out, passing curious people, a few who crossed the other side of the street when they saw the man's mask.

"What do you want me to call you?" I asked. He stiffened. "Why?"

"Well, I have to call you _something_."

He looked at the sky. "You can call me..." he looked around for inspiration, "Cardinal."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Cardinal?"

"Yes, my lady."

I rolled my eyes and walked ahead. He followed after me, talking excitedly. "Have you seen that boy James before?"

"Obviously, _Cardinal_."

"Well, I was only wondering." He sounded hurt.

I looked up. It was getting late. I heard a clock tower chime in the distance, from the town we had just left. Ten o'clock, PM. This wouldn't be fun. We were nowhere near a forest or town, just a weather-beaten road and the cruel town behind us.

"What'll we do for shelter?" I asked Cardinal. He looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's ten PM and we have nowhere to stay."

"Sure we do." He said, and raced off away from me. I stopped in my tracks and looked after him, open-mouthed. The darkness swallowed him and it was silent. I moaned and sat down on the side of the road. A carriage or two passed by, and time flew. I heard another _dong_ from the town as the clock reached 10:15. I heard footsteps and looked up.

Cardinal was walking toward me. I stood up. "I thought you had left me! Don't ever do that again!"

He smiled. "Would I leave you?" he asked. "Now, come on. I found an Inn."

We walked forward, and he talked about where we were going. "It's sort of small, but there are other people. We have to get there before eleven PM, though, or else we have to sleep on the doorstep, and it looks like rain. We have a little bit of time..." on and on he went, until, finally, "ah! Here we are!"

It was a small house with pleasant windows and a large front door. We ascended the steps and walked into the sleepy, dim foyer.

We were able to get a room, because Cardinal had apparently reserved one beforehand when he had stranded me. I was grateful to climb into bed, but then turned; he was in the same bed with me.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, trying to keep my voice low. He looked at me.

"There's only one bed, and I am _not_ sleeping on the chaise!" he whispered to me. I narrowed my eyes. "Well you're not sleeping here!"

"Yes I am!" he said, and rolled over. I grumbled and rolled on my side.

Some time later, I woke up to find it still dark. I wondered what had awoken me. I heard someone talking, and then I realized Cardinal was mumbling in his sleep.

"No...It isn't her, it's me, and you can't risk it for mine...no..." I smacked his side and rolled over, feigning sleep. I heard him shoot up and look around, and then mumbled back to sleep, but then he went quiet. I closed my eyes.

I awoke a few hours later, when light was just starting to come up. I found that Cardinal was spooning me, his arms around my stomach, snoring softly. I eased out, and spent the rest of the morning on the chaise, angry. I was black and blue when I awoke, but, so that I didn't embarrass him, I pretended that I had been awake the entire time and was merely reading, and had put a book back on the bookshelf when he awoke. I smiled innocently, and he got dressed to go pay our bill.

I waited for him outside after packing. He smiled at me and held up a basket. "Complimentary breakfast. I paid for the basket so we don't have to stay longer than necessary."

I worried about the money but he only smiled. "Don't worry. I have enough for a long time if we ration it." I smiled, and looked into the basket. Two bagels, a jug of orange juice, some apples, and silverware. Silverware! I gasped and grasped a fork, feeling it. In my fingers. He laughed.

"Let's sit down."

He walked off the road into a field. It was on a farm, butt the house was abandoned. We settled down and dug in. I spread butter onto my bagel and took a large bite. Oh, food, so glorious. I cut a bagel with my fork and knife, so happy to hold silverware again. It had only been a couple of weeks, but still, I missed finer living.

I dropped to the grass. Cardinal landed himself next to me gently. He looked at me. I looked at him, and we both smiled. Here was the man who had saved my life a few times. He reminded me of Erik so much, and he was from my past, obviously.

I heard a bird call and looked up as a real cardinal swooped past. It landed on a stalk of dead corn and cocked its head at us.

I felt a hand on my cheek and turned. Cardinal was a lot closer than he was before. He looked at me and, simultaneously, we closed our eyes and pushed forward.

We kissed, of course. What else could we do? I was happy to find that his kiss reminded me so much of Erik again.

Cardinal broke apart first and hugged me to him. I felt his muscles pull me closer to him and, on a whim, I reached up.

"Have I done this before?" I whispered to him. I was so sure it was Erik. I untied the mask and he pulled away, startled.

I was right about one thing. He was from my past.

"_Raoul_?"

* * *

**A/N How many were expectiing _that_?? Hoo-wee! Kick in the gut. Kinda. Yup. Get it, though? "A Fowl Alias". Not "FOUL", "FOWL". Like a bird! Cardinal? Fowl? Wow. I need a life.**

**Cardinal, Hawk. What's next? Vulture?**

**Hmmm...**


	9. IX: Loneliness

**A/N Sorry for the wait! I'm posting this ASAP, so it's kinda short...alright, MORE than kinda. It's really short! Don't kill me...!**

I reeled back in horror. Angry, Raoul grabbed his mask away from me.

"Yes." He sighed angrily, and stuffed his mask in his back pocket, "It's me. Why? Were you expecting someone else?"

I stayed silent, my open mouth expressionless.

"_Erik_, perhaps!" he snorted, and even I could here the scorn in his voice. This man that had softened toward me these past few days was someone that I loathed.

"You ruined my life, and I had the hopes of Erik, and now you're...you're..."

He laughed. Such a ridiculous man, so stupid, to laugh at the woman he loved.

"Wait..." I said, and cocked a brow, "I thought you were preparing the wedding?"

He grinned. "Well, seeing as how you were reluctant, I decided to _not _prepare for it. You may have run off with the ten-thousand-franc dress I would buy for you. Perhaps selling it?" Raoul's smile turned fowl. "I would have lost all of my money if I hadn't crept after you. Stunningly smart, don't you think?" he leaned in and pecked my cheek.

I don't know what came over me. I hated Raoul, oh, how I hated him. He was smarmy, thinking he was smarter than everyone else. My hand rose, and it came down. He winced. My fingertips stopped a few inches from his face. I was bent on sticking a finger into his eye. It was a barbaric movement, and so I stopped.

"Consider this luck." I hissed, and his face twisted to fury.

"I'll show you luck!"

I tried making sense of it all. He tackled me, pushing me toe ground. Raoul straddled my waist and pulled the mask out of his pocket. He gagged my tongue and started slapping me. No one heard me scream. I had no scream to say as he slapped my face over and over. My hands came up to push him off and he only held onto them with one strong fist, his other hand hitting me. I tried rolling over, but he wouldn't allow it.

Eventually, he got off of me. I lay stunned on the hard ground. He walked towards my bag. "Since we don't love each other, I can at least take what you do have..."

He rummaged inside. I could tell he didn't care if I died. Erik wouldn't have left Hawk back in that room, but to get me out alive—only alive, not safely—Raoul had done anything. He didn't even know Hawk. I tried sitting up, and my stomach clenched in pain.

Raoul tipped the contents of my bag over. I watched the package that I had found in the catacomb cellar fall behind a patch of heavy grass, where it lay unnoticed. I had forgotten all about it, and Raoul hadn't noticed it. He put the food and money back into the satchel, and as he walked by me, he kneeled down.

"To let you know, I still think you're beautiful. If you want to get married still, the offer is here. Just try finding me." I lay motionless. He raised his eyebrows. "So be it. Well, we can't have you fouling the name of de Chagny, so I'll make sure you'll have no one to talk to for the rest of your small life."

I was so tired. So hungry. He had everything. I heard a ripping sound, and saw the hem of my dress being ripped up. My wrists were then tied heavily, and my ankles, too. I lay my head back as Raoul stood up. He saluted me and left, taking my satchel with him. If only I could get close to the package, if only I could open it. For some reason I felt that there was something in there that I could use.

My hands were hurting. It was getting dark. I couldn't think of how to get out. I could a) Die of starvation; b) Drown myself by rolling into the stream, or, c) Try getting loose with possibly no success.

I tried c and failed miserably. My dress was ripped, I had blood and dirt on my face, and my hands were bound together by my ex-fiancée. This was the life of an opera star? I wondered where Carlotta was right now.

My legs were free. I could do a laying-down pirouette, because my ankles were trussed together. However, I found no use in it. Instead, I watched the clouds give way to stars and let my mind darken. I closed my eyes but did not sleep, but instead listened around me. The field I was in had rabbits and other small animals that hopped around lazily. I grew chilly, but I didn't notice. I was too busy doing nothing at all. Nothing but dreaming. Dreaming about the cellar in the catacombs, with Erik with me, the door closing and him moving closer to warm my cold arms. I was awake with my eyes closed, my eyelids shielding my thoughts for the night and forever.


	10. Quick Note! Not Bad!

**Dear Everyone,**

**Happy to announce my 1000th hit on this story! In celebration, I will make a long, juicy chapter for all of you. Coming before Valentine's Day, I swear. Thanks! **

** -PH**


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